


The Boy Who Leapt Through Time

by blue_inking



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (although there are some things beforhand this will basically have a lot of Harry Feels TM), (just not in the beginning), (lots of it actually because I'm a sucker for family-related stuff), Family Bonding, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Harry Potter-centric, Harry travels back in time (what's new), Harry tries to make the best out of it (and fails spectacularly), Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Potter Family-centric (Harry Potter), Time Travel, yes this is a direct reference to Hosoda's movie (but that's about it)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:53:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27329107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_inking/pseuds/blue_inking
Summary: Without memories about how he got there Harry wakes up in Hogsmeade — and discovers shortly after that he'd traveled back in time almost twenty years. Initially fixated on returning home, Harry is faced with unforseen things. He has to decide: should he change the past... or not?
Relationships: Harry Potter & James Potter, Harry Potter & Lily Evans Potter, Harry Potter & Madame Rosmerta, Harry Potter & Severus Snape, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ginny Weasley & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Peter Pettigrew & Harry Potter, Regulus Black & Harry Potter, Remus Lupin & Harry Potter, Sirius Black & Harry Potter, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin & Peter Pettigrew & James Potter & Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 8
Kudos: 89





	1. Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> English isn't my mother tongue, so please bear with me. I appreciate criticism in any form, though! 
> 
> This fic's also a direct translation of my original work, so if you happen to know me as 'hygge', please don't be confused about the whole posting-on-ao3-thing. 
> 
> Lastly: Have fun and stay strong! :)

* * *

  
The scream’s echo woke him. For a moment he thought he tasted something coppery, and the smell of sweat, smoke and death clinged to the air.

Harry opened his eyes.

It took a moment before the images in front of his mind disappeared again — no blurry figures looming over him, no raised wands, no curses and spells but leaves bending under the weight of falling raindrops. The dense branches of a tree hung over him.

Blinked rapidly, Harry propped himself up on his elbows. The sky was gray and overcast. When something dark — probably a bird — sailed over him, he had to squint his eyes to see it.

_My glasses_ , he thought. Although his skull was throbbing as if he and Ron had spent an hour too long in the Leaky Cauldron, he took a deep breath and began to search for his glasses in the half-damp grass around him.

After a few seconds his fingers found something smooth and cold. When he could see clearly again, he realized that he was on a small hill in the shelter of a large tree, near the trunk between roots protruding from the ground. At the foot of the hill, not far from him, were houses, or better: shops with signs that looked suspiciously familiar.

_What in Merlin’s name_ , he thought, _am I doing in Hogsmeade?_

With a frown he looked down at the village and was about to brush his hair when he winced. His right temple started to throb painfully as he withdrew his hand, crumbly pieces of dried blood stuck to his fingertips.

_And why, for Godric’s sake, do I have a laceration?_

His memories were foggy. No matter how much he concentrated on them, whenever they were within reach, they slipped away like flubberworms. Half in pain, half in frustration, he leaned against the tree‘s trunk. What was he even doing here? Where were Ron and Hermione? And where did he get the injuries from?

Harry grunted.

Out of the two options he had, the stay-and-sleep-‘til-everthing-goes-away-option seemed much more pleasant, but in this way he would be unable to decipher the situation. So he took a deep breath and got up, half proped against the bark. _I have to…_

Hardly on his feet, the world began to spun around him. Black dots danced on the rims of his vision.

_Bollocks_.

Clenching his teeth, Harry forced himself to take several deep breaths as he clawed his hands into the rotten wood of the tree. It burned where he scraped the skin of his fingertips, but at least the pain helped him to remain conscious.

_I hate this_.

* * *

_I didn‘t even run 200 meters_ , he thought shortly thereafter, leaning against the alley‘s wall between Zonko‘s and Honeydukes, _and I feel like dying all over again. The only part missing is that —_

There was a sound like the soft popping of apparating wizards and witches.

Harry, whose vision threatened to blur again, clenched his fists. Calling himself to order, he turned his head to the exit —

— and stopped.

_What…_

Each time he blinked, more figures appeared on the deserted street. They wore black cloaks and masks that he had last seen in his fourth year when —

Harry‘s puls quickened.

_These’re —_

Reflexively, he felt for his wand which he had kept hidden in the inside of his right boot since the end of the war, pulling it out. His thoughts — previously clouded with drowsiness — gradually cleared, the pain fading into the background.

Staying close to the wall, he kept his eyes on the street which seemed to be filling up more and more. Now he could make out seven Death Eaters; they all stayed in one place, almost as if they were waiting.

_But for what… or who?_

It wasn’t until he dared to look again that he realized that the Death Eater’s attention wasn’t on him; rather, it seemed like they were making sure that the group had not been spotted. With knitted eyebrows Harry watched one of them raise their arm —

„Morsmordre!”

A beam of green light shot into the sky. The clouds consolidated. Seconds later, a skull with a snake formed on the horizon — the Dark Mark.

_I have to do something_ , Harry thought, running his tongue over his lips. _But what?_

His looked over the alley he was in. Except for a mouse twitching its nose out of a hole in the brickwork opposite from him, there was nothing of help. He could send a Patronus to the Ministry or the castle, but by doing so he would risk being spotted — and he didn‘t have time.

He could only hope that someone else would get help while he kept the Death Eaters at bay.

_I’m used to worse_ , Harry thought, shouting „Expelliarmus!“ and diving into the open.

Two of the Death Eaters, too busy with their task, lost their wands, but Harry didn‘t have time to catch them because seconds later three curses were shot in his direction. He was able to avoid the first two in time, but the third one hit him in the shoulder.

His body was thrown backwards. He bumped into a flower pot, the clay clattering around him with a loud clang. Bright white spots danced before his vision while Harry heard a mocking laugh over the sudden noise in his ears.

He tried to lift his head but couldn‘t, closing his eyes with a groan. _I can’t give up. Not now!_

Gritting his teeth, he rolled sideways, noticing that meanwhile a handful of wizards and witches had come out of their homes to fight the Death Eaters. Although the Hogsmeade residents soon outnumbered them, they still failed to build up on their advantage — unlike them, the Death Eaters didn‘t care if they murdered. Soon enough, people toppled over like puppets cut by their strings.

Harry grabbed his wand and pushed himself up. He hissed when he noticed two clay‘s pieces in his right leg and left rib. More staggering than walking, he dragged himself back to the side road in which he had previously been hidden. There he removed both ceramic splinters; within seconds, his trousers and shirt were soaked with blood.

While people screamed all around him, he tore off a piece of his sleeve and tied his injured leg with it, then casting a healing spell on the wound on his side. _That won‘t last long_ , he thought, _but it‘s better than nothing._

Just as Harry was about to turn back, something exploded right at the alley entrance. The pressure wave hit him unprepared; the force threw him backwards again, but this time he found his footing faster. The appearing cloud of dust made him cough, and with his arm over his nose and mouth and half blind, he slowly made his way back. 

When he stepped into a dark puddle he looked up. In front of him, between rubble and several facade‘s residues, laid a someone. Their neck stuck out at an odd angle from the rest of their body; arms and legs showed scratches and abrasions. A tiny thread of saliva ran from their open mouth.

Harry tasted bile but forced himself to step over the corpse. Almost instantely he had to duck under an approaching curse, all but tumbling because his injured leg buckled away but recovered at the last second.

_That's enough!_

* * *

Harry fought.

As best as he was able to, he pushed against the Death Eaters and was further able to prevent a young witch from being tortured with the _Cruciatus_. After firing a shock spell towards the Death Eater, he wanted to ask her if she was alright, but he didn‘t get far because another Death Eater was already shooting a _Incendio_ at him.

In addition, his injuries made fighting difficult. The wound on his side had reopened and even though Harry pressed his hand over it, he felt warm blood seep from between his fingers —

* * *

Gradually, he lost track of time.

* * *

The fight was almost over, _almost_ , but —

His legs gave out. Harry slumped to the floor.

_A pause_ , he thought, trying to keep his eyes open, _just a little pause… then I can… I can…_

There had been times when he had thought about how and when he was going to die. But he had never thought he would end up in a tiny alley, curled up like an embryo in a pool of his own blood and with no memory of the things that have happened before.

Harry closed his eyes.

* * *

A hand shook his left shoulder.

Groaning softly, Harry turned away _. Not the left one_ , he thought, hissing when fingers suddenly grabbed him again, stronger this time. _Damn it._

Harry blinked up to the strangely distorted image of a face. It took him a few seconds to understand what he was seeing: curly blonde hair, a round face with blue eyes, loads of freckles. The witch he had saved from the _Cruciatus_ earlier.

Her lips moved, but he couldn‘t understand what she was saying. His ears seemed stuffed with cotton, the sounds from outside muffled over.

When she noticed that he hadn‘t understand her she nodded towards the alley entrance. Harry‘s gaze followed her — there were uniformed people taking the Death Eaters into custody. Aurors. The support had arrived.

Harry was about to close his eyes again when the witch slapped his cheek lightly. This time she seemed to notice his grumbling because she grimaced before pointing towards his injuries. Her mouth formed the word ›Hospital Wing‹ followed by ›Sankt Mungo‹ but Harry shook his head. _No, no, anything but that —_

The witch drew her brows together, pausing before looking back over her shoulder. Harry tried to make her understand that it was alright, that he wouldn‘t blame her if she would leave, but before he could do so she turned back, mouthing a soundless _Sorry_ while leaning over him. Strands of her hair tickled his cheek —

His body was jerked into an upright position. At the same time, cascades of bright spots exploded in front of his eyes, something in his brain seemed to crack —

Then, the world aorund him went black.

* * *


	2. Wrong Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry wakes up again... just not in the right timeline. Meanwhile, four boys talk about Mister Unknown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for 7 subscriptions, 126 hits, 14 kudos and 4 bookmarks! 
> 
> As always, stay strong and have fun. :)

* * *

„I’m impressed.“

„Oh yeah?“

„You didn‘t even look at her _once_ this evening, Prongs. Even she noticed — she seems a little bit lost, to be honest. When will you finally redeem carrothead from her torments?“

„You mean he should — I’m sorry, James — he should get a rebuff? Again?“

„ _Yes_. Seriously, just take a look at her: She keeps turning in our direction, all frown-y with this dark look of suspicion in her eyes… all that‘s missing is her biting her nails like Wormtail when he almost pisses his pants everytime before an exam.“

„Hey!“

„Sirius!“

„I’m just say _argh!_ Bloody hell, Moons, did you _have_ to hit me?“

„I was just trying to knock the steam out of your brain.“

„Har har. Quit laughing, Wormtail! … well?“

„Well what?“

„Why are you doing this? Why aren‘t you stopping by her already so that you can lament to us about your undying love and appreciation for her?“

„Tactful as always, aren’t you, Pads.“

„I‘m right, ain’t I?“

„Well, yes, but that doesn‘t give you the right to—“

„Ah, pff, he can take something like that, can‘t you, mate?“

„Why are we friends again?“

„‘cause I’m irresistible?“

„And so very humble. This year’ll different.“

„‘cause of the whole head-boy-thing?“

„Jup.“

„Aww, Jamesie-pooh has finally reached adulthood! How fast they grow up…“

„Stop patting my hair, Pads.“

„But why? Don‘t you feel the sign of my overwhelming lo _uugh_ , what the hell, man?! Moons, Prongs bit me!“

„It’s your own fault. Now eat, peolpe are looking.“

* * *

In a way Harry knew he was dreaming.

Although he felt the soft fabric of a bedsheet under his fingertips, although something cold laid on his forehead, although he could clearly sense his pulse thrumming through his system —

The world around him was wrapped in darkness.

Every now and then he could pick up fragments of sentences that made no sense or incoherent words, but for the most part these noises were muffled, as if he was lying down in a closed coffin, waiting, playing dead.

Soon enough, the line between dream and memory blurred. Some things seemed familiar, as if he already lived through them. Then there were moments when his perception began to dent like an old tinny watering can —

Ginny‘s freckled nose as she greeted him —

Ron‘s hand, fidging, disappearing behind fox-red hair —

Hermione's half-smile as she tried to hide her amusement —

And Harry remembered.

* * *

„Hey guys, do you‘ve heard what Auror Phillips said?“

„That some madman asserted himself in a pure suicide squad against four out of seven Death Eaters? Yes, I’ve heard.“

„Why do I get the vague impression that you don’t approve of his behaviour, Moons?“

„Because I _ain’t_ , Sirius! Something could have happened to him! He could have broken his neck, or he could have bleeding internally, or—“

„Calm down, Moony. Pads just wanted to take the mickey out of you. No reason to go ballistic.“

„Yeah, Moons, retract your claws, otherwise your ›furry little problem‹‘s going to be mad.“

„Go to hell, Sirius.“

„I — what — don’t laugh, you git!“

„Sorry, Pads, but you manage to turn him against you at the same time every month — after _seven years in the same dormitory_. If you ask me, you really don‘t learn anything new.“

„Well, nobody ask _you_. Anyways, didn’t we speak about Mister Unknown?“

„Subtle change of subject, mate.“

„Fuck you, Prongs.“

„Oh why, thank you. Wormtail? You said something about Phillips?“

„Yes. When I was on my way to the Great Hall I overheard him talking to Professor Dumbledore in a side corridor. They talked about the attack yesterday. Phillips said that when he‘d interrogated some of Hogsmeade’s residents about it, they would always bring up a stranger who stepped in and — I think the word they used to describe him defending them was ›expertly‹ and ›skillful‹.“

„Tell us something new, Wormtail.“

„Sirius!“

„What? What did I do this time—“

„Ignore them. Was there anything else?“

„Apparently, the guy made a big impression on Hogsmeade‘s people. It seems like he was, uhh, ›battle-tested‹ and saved lots of them from being cursed. However, he’s gone now.“

„Gone? Gone how?“

„He seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth. A few saw him swaying down an alley shortly before the Aurors appeared, but when they went to check on him, no one could find him. Phillips urged Professor Dumbledore to contact the Ministry as soon as he‘ll be found so that he can be questioned too.“

„Did he say something about these lunatics?“

„The — The Death Eaters? Uhh, no, nothing exept what he announced at yesterday‘s dinner, I think. Why — why do you ask, Padfoot?“

„No reason. Are you ‘right? You look peaky.“

„Yeah! Sure! Everything’s fine! Well, then, I have to go — to the library. See you!“

„He buzzed off quickly…“

„Don‘t you think Peter has been acting odd since the beginning of the school year?“

„Why? Because he vanishes to-Merlin-knows-where with a bunch of lazy excuses more often than before?“

„Your birdbrain got it, Pads. I’m proud of you.“

„ _Guys_. Stop the marital quarrel and focus, _please_. What do you think Phillips will do with the Death Eaters?“

„Interrogate them and, depending on the answer, arrest them or leave them to a dementor’s kiss.“

„Would serve my dear daft cousin right — what? Don’t you want to rebuke me, Moons?“

„Not this time, no. Now, will you hand me the bowl with the chocolate pudding, please?“

* * *

It was mid-November, about six months after the Battle of Hogwarts. Several weeks of clearing work later, the castle was finally restored with McGonnagall as the new-appointed school’s headmistress.

The first school year after the war had begun: Too early, some people claimed. To get back into a routine as soon as possible, others argued. Ultimately, the protest passed when the Ministry — now under Kingsley’s leadership — sided with the supporters and many eleven-year-old’s entered the castle on September 1st.

„I still can‘t believe she made us do it,” Ron grumbled beside him, hands in his trouser pockets. His features had become rougher around the edges, his shoulders wider.

Harry shrugged. „If I‘m honest, neither can I. And yet we _are_ catching up on our last year. Maybe she mixed something in our dishes while we weren’t looking?“

„Hermione?“ Ron snorted. „Hardly likely. Hermione would never—“

„You’re forgetting who brewed us an illegal potion on seventh-grader-level during our second year,“ Harry said, smirking at the memory. „Or, like, rebelled against all time’s law during our third year in order to learn as much as possible. Or—“

„Alright, yeah, got it.“

„—decided after years of several back-and-forth‘s to finally date a Quidditch-crazy redhead.“

„Oi!“

Harry grinned awry. „Come on, we should hurry. Hermione and Ginny are waiting for us.“

„Sure, start a hare, dimwit,“ Ron muttered, but Harry saw that his friend didn‘t mind. Since no more life- threatening adventures awaited them, Ron had become surprisingly facile. Of course he could still be stubborn, jealous as hell and bloody rash, but he had changed, Harry thought.

They all did, in some ways.

It wasn‘t long after this that they reached the Room of Requirement. After three or four turns and a few flights of stairs, he saw Hermione and Ginny standing in front of the large portal. From the distance he could see that Hermione was holding something small and golden.

_A necklace?_ Harry frowned. _What does she want with a… no, wait. That’s a —_

„Time-turner?“ Ron asked from behind him. „What do you want with that thing? Also, where did you get it from? Weren’t we supposed to meet up for McGonnagall’s assignment?“

„Glad to see you too,“ Hermione said, raising an eyebrow when they finally reached Ginny and her. „Is that the right way to greet your girlfriend?“

Grinning, Ron put an arm around her. „Hypothetically speaking, no, but I‘ll be happy to make an exception for you.“

„I’m charmed.” Hermione rolled her eyes, but Harry saw the raised corners of her mouth. „To answer your questions: I got the Time-Turner from the Room of Requirement. While I was researching something for our Transfiguration essay in one of the library‘s books, I read something about Vanishing Cabinets and wanted to find out whether we also have something like that or not. As it turns out, Hogwarts is, in fact, in possesion of an intact exemplar. It’s stored in the Room of Requirement. While inspecting it, I‘ve found this.“

She held up the Time Turner. At the sight of the hourglass and the engraved metal, something inside Harry contracted. When he looked up again, he noticed Hermione glancing at him and returned her tentative smile. „I thought Time-Turner were extremely rare and could only be used under the supervision of certain Ministry members,“ he said. „How can something like that be here at Hogwarts?“

„The Room of Requirement gives people what they need most at the moment,“ Hermione replied as if the answer was obvious — well, it probably was, but Harry wasn‘t satisfied. Apparently, Ron wasn’t either.

As he asked her to give him the Time-Turner, his friend raised his eyebrows. „Then why do you need it?“

„I don‘t know… yet,“ Hermione said, looking at the Time-Turner in Harry‘s hands. „But there has to been a reason. After all, I surely didn‘t find it for nothing.“

Ron frowned. „You interpret too much into the whole thing, ‘mione. In the end it‘s just a coincidence.“

„How would you know?“ Hermione escaped Ron‘s grasp and stood across from him, hands on her hips and with knitted eyebrows. „The first thing you should do is getting a picture of the overall situation. Don‘t just wave things off right away, Ronald, and think before judging.“

„Are you saying I‘m stupid?“ Ron asked.

„I did _not_ say that—“

„But you thought it!“

„You don‘t let me finish my sentences and jump to conclusions—“

Harry exchanged a quick glance with Ginny. 

„Guys,“ he then said, stepping between the two of them and taking turns looking at his friends. „Drop a gear and postpone your marital row until tonight, or at least until later when you‘re alone, okay? We should get on with the acutal task at hand — the Transfiguration essay for McGonnagall.“

Hermione and Ron continued to stare at each other, but Harry saw the tension fading from their shoulders. After a moment Hermione sighed and ran a hand through her curls. „You‘re right. We should—“

A sudden bang, like an explosion, made everyone flinch.

Seconds later a huge cloud of dust crept slowly over the floor at the end of the corridor towards them, and a faint smell of burning hung in the air.

Reflexively, Harry felt for his wand, noticing that his friends were doing the same. After a quick side glance towards the others, he took a few steps forward —

Then he noticed the movement.

Frowning, he motioned to his friends to stop and watched the black shadow gradually emerging from the smother. The more the dust settled, the clearer the slender outline of a tall figure became. But the seconds it took him to realize what was happening became his undoing.

The figure had raised their arm, a wand in hand, at the tip of which a green light began to glow.

Harry didn‘t have time to react. He heard a deep voice uttering the killing curse, he saw the flash of green light dart in his direction, heard the horrified shouts of his friends —

The next moment the curse hit metal — the Time-Turner, Harry realized too late — before there was another, deafening bang —

Harry was thrown backwards. For several seconds he was fyling through the air, weightless —

He only had time to throw his arms in front of his head before he crashed onto the tiles.

* * *

Harry woke. 

Squinting his eyes, he slumped back and breathed in deeply for several minutes to make the glistening white dots disappear from his vision. When the dizziness subsided, he blinked at the ceiling.

A déjà-vu-like feeling overcame him when he noticed that his surroundings were blurred. Automatically, he reached aside, feeling for his glasses. When he looked around a couple of seconds later, his original impression was confirmed.

_I… have no idea where I am. Again_. Harry snorted. _Brilliant_.

The room he was in was small, with a slender window and flower-printed curtains on his right and the door on his left side. In addition to the bed in which he was laying, there was a bulky wooden cupboard opposite from him while a small bedside cabinet and a footstool stood to his right. The walls were coloured in a warm yellow.

Sighing softly, he let his head sink back into the pillow, closing his eyes and putting his arm on his forehead.

_Alright,_ he thought. _The last thing I remember is staggering down an alley… there was this witch aaand… nothing. No clue what happened next._

From under the arm he looked down at himself. Someone — ideally the young woman who he had spoken to earlier — had seemingly treated his wounds: there were bandages around his shoulder, his stomach and his left leg. His head — as he followed the rough gauze’s surface with his fingertips — was tended to the same way.

_Muggle-like_. Harry furrowed his brows. _Why doing this when she just could‘ve get me stoned with a couple of potions?_

Lost in thought, he didn‘t notice the dull footsteps in the corridor — not until the creak of the opening door startled him.

The blonde witch who now entered the room carried a bowl filled with water, a light blue towel laying on her shoulder. When she saw that he was awake, she stopped. „Rested well, Sleeping Beauty?“

While she was putting everything on the bedside table, Harry tried to push himself into an upright sitting position — with moderate success, as every move he made resulted in a long pull above his navel. He swore quietly.

Suddenly, there were hands helping him before Harry found himself vertical. The witch, who fluffed his pillow and then pushed it back between his back and the bedpost, eyed him for a moment before pulling up the footstool and sitting next to him.

Harry watched her silently. „Where am I? What happened?“

„Guest room in The Three Broomsticks. After I tried to lift you up, you passed out. Carried you here with a levitation spell, afterwards, because I didn’t want to worsen any of your injuries — of which you, honestly, have enough. Otherwise feeling okay?“ She nodded at the bandages.

_I_ _feel like a flubberworm, but thanks for asking._ Harry shrugged.

„Slept two full days, you knackered bastard.“ She shook her head as if she still couldn‘t believe it. „But I shouldn‘t be surprised. You received some nice souvenirs, flesh wounds on the leg, on your side and on your shoulder, various abrasions and scratches… oh, an of course let’s not forget the shallow laceration on your temple. You didn‘t mean to kill yourself, did you?“

„Somebody _had_ to help them.“ Harry frowned. „They would‘ve been on their own, unprepared, while I was _there_. It would‘ve been wrong if I hadn‘t—“ 

„So you threw yourself willingly into some kind of suicide-like scenario?“ The witch asked, eyebrows raised. „Oh god, you aren‘t one of those martyrs with this over-the-top-marked helper syndrom, are you? Damn, _of course_ you‘re. Well, fine by me, I guess. Anyways, I had to treat you the old-fashioned way after various healing potions and spells Merlin-knows-why wouldn‘t work on you. You don’t like to make it easy for me _or_ you, don’t you? Took me a while to get all the bandages together. Good for you that my mum taught me a lot. My turn,“ she contuined. „Are you related to James Potter?“

In itself the question was perfectly legitimate, but something about the way the witch asked it made Harry pause. „… why do you ask?“

„Isn‘t it obvious?“ The woman said, running a hand through her hair. „I don‘t know if you‘ve noticed, pal, but you’re the spitting image of him!“

„Uhhh,“ Harry said.

„My heart almost stopped when I saw you lying half-dead in the wynd.“ The young woman sucked in a breath. „Every so often, James Potter and his friends come to the Three Brooms for a few Butterbeer, so I know him and his brother-to-be-Black very well. At first I thought you were James…“

She shuddered as if she was shivering. „Didn‘t tell a soul about you for now, especially since you, indeed, saved my life. I wanted to make amends that way — a true lady honors debts and all that, right? While we‘re at it — can you lean forward a little? I want to take a look over your wounds.“

Everything in him was reluctant to let the witch get any closer, but Harry was aware that his distrust would lead to skepticism (and questions). And at the moment he could do without both. So he let her help him sit up in bed further, with his back halfway towards her. He heard the muffled clap of the cloth dipping into water before warm hands touched his skin. The woman was working quietly and so carefully that Harry could almost forget where he was…

Until she began to speak again.

„Before this gets off my mind: These weirdos were arrested, all of them. Surely, the people would be happy to thank their rescuer as soon as he turned the corner,” she said, her fingers gliding gently over his spine.

Harry hummed. _I honestly hope I don‘t have to stay here ‘til this happens._

He heard a low sigh behind him. „Just saying. It‘s your decision, but I think it would be good. While we‘re at it — I haven‘t introduced myself yet, haven’t I? Since I‘ve never seen you here before, shall I assume you‘re new? Being on the way through or something? Also, I’m done.“

Harry looked to the left where the bandages had fallen back into a small heap, then down at himself. The injury on his side, partly reaching his back, had been sewn and seemed to be healing well; only around the punctured sites it was still bright red and sore. His shoulder and leg had to look similar.

Suddenly he felt something cold on his skin and winced. The witch snorted in amusement. „Bit of a scary-cat, aren’t you? It‘s just the towel. Had to wash you the last few days too so that you wouldn‘t transform into a skunk. Luckily for you, mate, the Hogsmeade weekends have been canceled this week. This way I didn‘t had to worry about filling hungry mouths while patching you up.“

„You… work here?“ Harry asked after a moment. A sudden queasy feeling in his stomach made him swallow. As far as he could remember, there had been only one waitress at the pub —

„Of course.“ The witch laughed. „I own the shop. My Pa bought it even before he met my Ma. Was the only one who called me ›Rosie‹, Ma always insisted on Rosmerta… what? Why are you suddenly so tense?“

„‘s alright,“ Harry spluttered out, almost choking on his own saliva. _That’s… that‘s impossible, absolutely impossible! How can she suddenly be a good twenty years younger? Except…_

„That‘s it.“ The woman — _Rosmerta, it‘s Rosmerta_ , Harry thought — pushed the footstool back, got up and took the bowl, holding it loosely by her hips. She raised an eyebrow. „What? You’re looking at me like you‘ve seen a ghost, pal. Rest, I‘ll check on you later.“

With a smile she saluted, index and middle finger on her forehead, and left the room.

Harry stared at the door for several minutes before realizing that his hands were clenched in the covers.

_Well_ , he thought. _Shite_.

„What‘s today‘s date?“

If Rosmerta was surprised by his question, she didn‘t showed it. Instead, she carried a tray with a steaming bowl (judging by the smell, chicken soup), two small slices of toast, a carafe filled with pumpkin juice and a glass into the room, setting it down on the bedside table.

„A light fare,“ she said after noticing Harry‘s gaze. „You should be famished I think, but don‘t overstrain your stomach too much. You still seem a little unsteady to me, as pale as you‘re right now.“

„Sure,“ Harry replied. „So? What day‘s it?“

For a moment, Rosmerta was silent before she crossed her arms. „Must‘ve taken a really bad blow if you can‘t remember. Today‘s November 20th, Sunday. "

„And the year?“

Now, something like concern crept into her eyes. „1977. Why?“

„Just wanted to make sure,“ Harry said quickly, reflexively shrugging his shoulders and hissing as the blood beneath his wound seemed to turn to poisioned liquid for a few seconds.

„Well, then… if you need anything else, just call. I‘ll be in the room next door.“ She had already turned back when she stopped in the doorway again. „Oh, and eat. You could use it.“

It clicked slightly as the door closed behind her. Harry listened to their footsteps which soon faded away. He sat motionless for a few moments before eyeing the food. The smell of the soup alone made his stomach ache, but Rosmerta was right, he needed the food. So he took one of the two toast’s slices and leaned back.

As for now, Rosmerta just confirmed his last — and strongest — suspicion:

He had actually traveld back in time, on the day twenty-two years.

He and his friends had been attacked, presumably by a Death Eater who the Ministry had failed to capture in time. The Time-Turner must have somehow influenced the effect of the _Avada Kedavra_ and, thereby, transported him into the past.

While falling, he had likely sustained the laceration that led to a short-lived amnesia after the first time he had woken up. His memories must have returned in the days after the attack… and now, here he was.

Harry grimaced. _In 1977… What in Merlin’s name should I do now? How do I even get home as fast as possible?_

He felt sick just imagining what his friends must be thinking currently — they neither knew where he was nor whether he was alive. As soon as he was on his feet again, he had to find a way to go home — if possible _without_ attracting even more undivided attention.

_Ron… Hermione… Ginny…,_ he thought, his gaze glidding to the window, of behind which curtains night was falling. _I’ll come back._

_I promise._

* * *


	3. Harry Granger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Healing is a lot more difficult than Harry's expecting, Rosmerta's second-guessing herself and, would you look at that, it's full moon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you @TheBoyWhoWalksInTheLight for the first comment, 30 Kudos, 12 Bookmarks and 476 Hits! You guys are awesome! :>
> 
> On this note: brief mention of panic attacks in the second last scene (Harry helped...). Please be warned. 
> 
> Have fun, stay safe and good night (or morning or whenever you're reading this)!

* * *

_It’s official: I’m slowly but surely going mad_ , Rosmerta thought, chin resting on her hand. _Although I don‘t have the faintest clue of whom I‘m letting sleep in my guest bed, I actually let a potential psychopath stay with me for free. Ma and Pa would be proud of me._

Grimacing, she pushed the thought of her parents aside, leaning back in the kitchen chair and wrapping the self-knitted jacket a little closer around herself. Only when she heard a faint rumble above her did she frown at the ceiling. _For Merlin's sake, what‘s that fool doing? Didn‘t I tell him to rest? Once, only once, this damned thick-head could listen to me!_

Rosmerta let out a soft breath. _Who am I kidding here_ , she thought. _It‘s my own fault. That guy was even able to get his way during my Samaritan act…_

The fact that he didn‘t want to go to the Hospital Wing or Sankt Mungo (and behaved, on top of that, in an unusually secretive manner) had puzzled her, but leaving him behind without help after saving her life had seemed unfair. Rosmerta was too much of a Hufflepuff to do that.

Didn‘t mean that she wasn‘t suspicious of that guy.

 _How can someone defeat so many Death Eaters at once with seemingly so little effort?_ She frowned. _What was that guy even doing in Hogsmeade? And much more important: Why doesn‘t he want anyone to know about his involvement?_

In addition, there was his striking resemblance to James. Ignoring the fact that the guy had a lightning-bolt-shaped scar on his forehead and unusually green eyes, one could‘ve easily mistaken both of them for twins.

 _Well_ , she thought, _you can actually do it even then._

Ultimately, she pushed the chair back and got up to go to the kitchen dresser. She always had a red kettle next to the sink, which she then filled with water, placing it on the stove. While she fished a cup from the board above, it rumbled over her again.

Rosmerta frowned, but decided against looking. Maybe it was cowardly of her, but she didn‘t have the nerve to face this guy right now. _Let him take apart the furnishings then._

Although his appearance was far from logical (or ordinary), he had helped Hogsmeade’s people without hesitation. He had rushed into battle without worrying about his own safety — as if the only thing that mattered was saving lives. She had never seen a selflessness like that before. Surely Aurors had a similar mentality, but on a different scale. Aurors fought because it was part of their _job_ — the stranger, however, had fought as if it were his _calling_.

It just wouldn‘t fit into the picture if her involuntary patient turned out to be a psychopath whose hobby it was to ram a knife between innocent‘s shoulder blades when they weren’t looking. Someone who acted with a courage and a levelhandness like him wouldn‘t want to hurt anyone willingly — except for Death Eaters, she assumed. Perhaps it was naive of her to hold onto that idea, but Rosmerta was sure. Even if she had to accept his repellent nature and the potential threat he posed:

The stranger wasn’t dangerous.

* * *

With a wounded leg — and a lot of injuries in general — walking was harder than expected.

Cursing softly, Harry slumped back on the bed in the guest room. Although this was the third attempt (that he _thankmerlin_ hadn‘t landed on the floor), he didn‘t seem to be getting any better than the previous times.

 _Well, I have time_ , Harry thought, snorting before he let himself fall back on the bed sheets with outstretched arms. He stared at the ceiling. _I‘ve been here for almost three days and my leg‘s still giving me trouble. Why won‘t those bloody potions work on me?_

Even with Rosmerta‘s support, who continued to treat his injuries with all sorts of disinfecting herbal ointments, his wounds healed poorly. He couldn‘t explain it any other way than that his sudden immunity towards magical cures was somehow caused by the time travel itself.

Closing his eyes, he put his good arm on his forehead. Whatever it was that was inhibiting his regeneration: He had to find a way to treat his wounds as quickly as possible, otherwise he wouldn‘t be able to solve his spontaneous time-travel-problem.

At least Rosmerta had given him enough space and time to organize his thoughts, so he’d been able to come up with a plan to get out of here over the course oft he last few days:

First: attract as little attention as possible.

 _Which worked perfectly, now that only the Aurors of the past, the entire Hogsmeade inhabitants and Hogwarts know you as the_ _›stranger who corpses Death Eaters one after the other_ _‹,_ Harry thought.

Second: come up with an cover-identity in order to avoid possible questions — ideally under an unknown surname.

Third: find the Time-Turner in the hope that this will remove all obstacles at once so that he will see his friends again as soon as possible.

 _But for that I‘d have to get out of here_ , Harry thought, clenching your teeth, _and for **that** my injuries have to heal — which, oh wonder, isn‘t the case!_

Whichever side he looked at it: for the time being his hands were tied.

Unsurprisingly, he didn’t like that.

* * *

The stranger agreed to reveal the secret of his presence on the next day’s evening.

„Harry,“ he said, sitting in the orange-yellow light from the switched on lamp from the bedside cabinet. „My name is Harry Fred Granger.“

„Good to know,“ Rosmerta said, putting down the tray she had been carrying. This time she had brought him tomato soup, crispy herby bread and a carafe filled with pumpkin juice. As she pulled the stool towards her, she eyed Harry.

„What brought you to Hogsmeade then?“ She asked, gesturing with her hand that he could begin eating. But when he ignored the hint, she crossed her arms and let her gaze wander between him and the meal expectantly.

Harry rolled his eyes, grabbed the bread and — in a rather pointed way — plucked a piece out of it before putting it into his mouth.

 _Dimwit_ , she thought.

Although he had been awake for four days now, she nearly had to stuff the food down his throat: as soon as she left him, he hardly touched any of the food she brought. On the first day she even had to take the tray down again, almost fully loaded.

Since then she had attended every meal.

„I was passing through to Edinburgh when I wanted to make a stop. My siblings told me about Hogwarts for a long time now, so I thought I‘d take the opportunity by stopping by. Turned out that wasn‘t too wise.“ A crooked smile appeared on Harry‘s face.

 _Like James‘_ , she thought, and then: _For Helga‘s sake, stop staring, girl!_

„How come your siblings went to Hogwarts but you didn’t?“

„I‘ve always been, uhh, more sickly than the two of them, so I‘ve been homeschooled.“ Harry ripped another chunk off the bread. „But even at home I always had the tendency to get into trouble easily, or rather: trouble usually finds me faster than I can hide from it.“

For some reason that made him grin. Rosmerta raised an eyebrow. „At least that explains why the potions don‘t seem to be working. So your body regenerates slowly in general and therefore doesn‘t starts healing right away? That‘s also why you have these scars, like this lightning-bolt-thingy on your forehead, right?“

While she spoke, Harry spluttered. As he coughed, she hurried to fill the glass she had brought with pumpkin juice before handing it to him. Harry emptied it in one gulp.

„I…“ He cleared his throat. „Thank you. The older scars are… the result of stupid childhood accidents. Yes, exactly. Where was I? Oh yeah, when I was nearly at Hogsmeade, I slipped and fell, hence the laceration. When I came to me, I actually wanted to get help, but the Death Eaters had already shown up and… well… you know the rest.“

„I guess that‘s why your memory was impaired too?“ Rosmerta asked. When Harry nodded, she felt more relieved than she should be. „Makes sense. Honestly, who asks about the current year?“

She chuckled, remembering how strange the moment that Harry had asked for the date was. She didin‘t wanted to show how unsettling she had found it.

When she looked up again, she caught a glimpse of Harry eyeing her with furrowed eyebrows — but after she blinked his expression had smoothed.

„By the way, Rosmerta—“

„Rosie.“

„Rosie, then. I really appreciate you letting me stay here. The situation is tense enough at the moment, and I don’t want to take your kindness for granted… so thank you. Could I use your help a little longer though? In return I‘d give you a hand with the work in the pub as soon as I am able to and, well, as long as I can stay here.“

Rosmerta cocked her head to one side before smiling. „Deal. Ma and Pa always believed that helping others is the most important thing. Speaking of which, do you want to let your family know that you‘ll be arriving in Edinburgh a little while later?“

„Uhh.“ Harry blinked at her; he gave the impression that she had taken him off guard. Then, he ran his right hand through his hair — something that inevitably made her think of James again. _Coincidence_ , she thought.

„Nah,“ Harry then said. „They already know I wanted to visit Hogwarts and that it‘d make the trip longer.“

Rosmerta nodded. „With that out oft he way, you can take care of more important things — your food, for example.“

„Oh please, I ain‘t a little ... alright, I‘m eating, stop glaring,“ he added with a sideways glance in her direction and reached for the bowl with tomato soup, which had cooled down meanwhile.

 _As expected, no psychopath_ , she thought as she watched him spooning the soup with a hidden smile. As soon as Harry had finished the meal, she checked his injuries again; gradually the ones on his stomach and the shoulder seemed to be healing, the laceration had already closed — only the wound on his leg still worried her. But when the medicine’s effect would finally kick in, that shouldn‘t be a problem either.

After taking care of Harry, she picked up the tray, wished him a good night‘s rest and left him alone —

Only to stop as soon as the door had slammed shut behind her.

 _Wait a moment. If he‘s as sickly as he says he is_ , she thought, _why was he alone in the first place?_

* * *

„What's _wrong_ with you?“ Rosmerta asked as soon as she took off the bandages.

In a way that reminded him of Sirius who learned about Harry’s childhood conditions she stared down at the wound on his leg.

Harry shrugged. „My body is a strange exemplar of the human race?“

„By Helga‘s _tits_ ,“ Rosmerta said. „When I checked the day before yesterday, the damn cut was still red and bloody and swollen and _why is it completely healed by now, Freddie?“_

„I dunno?“

Cursing to herself, Rosmerta disposed the bandages before letting herself fall on the stool, massaging the bridge of her nose with thumb and forefinger. „You‘re a bloody lucky bastard, pal,“ she said. „And this has been the case since this morning?"

„Uh-hum.“

„And you have no clue why?“

„Nope.“

„But that‘s just…“ Rosmerta took a breath and let it out noisily. „Well, I would suggest you rest until tomorrow anyway, just in case. Now eat, I‘ll remove the stitches afterwards so you can take a shower if you want. I‘ll put some clothes out for you, there should be a few old ones from Pa…“

Rosmerta rose, mumbling to herself and leaving Harry alone for good. The fact that she even forgot to stay and watch over him while eating lunch didn‘t surprise him — he himself had only a limited understanding of _what the bloody hell was going on_.

On the other hand, it made things a lot easier for him: if he did well, he could sneak out the following night to look for the Time-Turner. With a smile Harry grabbed half of the Ploughman’s sandwich and leaned back. _Goes like clockwork. Nice._

After Rosmerta had removed all threads and forced Harry more or less good-naturally to take a hot shower, he entered the kitchen which was screened off by a door behind the serving area of the pub in the late afternoon, freshly changed. Warm sunlight broke through the horizon’s thick clouds and painted dark spots on the floor and the walls.

When she heard his footsteps, Rosmerta, standing at the kitchen dresser, looked up and grinned. „Didn’t think black shirts would suit you. Fancy.”

With his hands buried in his trouser pockets, Harry stepped next to her and looked over her shoulder. She had just chopped carrots and was about to put them in a bowl with other ingredients. _Shepherd’s Pie?_

„To celebrate your sudden recovery,“ Rosmerta said. „It‘ll take a while, but you are welcome to help.“

She nodded to the large onion that laid to the right of the cutting surface. „Chop and fry them with the mince from the fridge. Oh, and wait ‘til the onions are translucent.“

For a moment Harry was tempted to tell her that he already knew that — growing up with his relatives at least had the advantage that he very soon knew how to cook _without_ making any of the food inedible.

It took him a while to find his way around the kitchen, but once orientated the next few minutes passed in pleasant silence. At first Rosmerta commented every now and then while Harry was taking care of the mashed potatoes but held back more and more during the cooking.

After putting the dish into the oven, Harry noticed that he was being scrutinized out of the corner of his eye. Bracing his hands behind him on the edge of the kitchen dresser, Harry returned Rosmerta‘s gaze.

„Why the sudden willingness to help?“ She asked then.

Harry frowned. „I already told you that.“

„Yeah, I know, I was just wondering because… well, you don‘t necessarily look like someone who, in addition to fighting Death Eaters on a seemingly daily basis, also likes to stand behind the stove. By the way, how are your wounds?“

Harry shrugged. „Good.“

„Oh please.“ Rolling her eyes, Rosmerta rested her chin on her wrist. „Are you always like that? Or is it because of my presence?“

„I… what?“

„You survived a bloody fight with _four_ _Death Eaters_ and, on top of that, were so badly hurt that I almost had to scratch you off the floor and _now_ you’re doing this whole the-humble-winner-number?“ Rosmerta snorted. „Do you _always_ have to play the hero?“

„Hero?“ Harry asked, raising his eyebrows. „You think I did what I did… for the sake of _fame_?“

„No.“ Rosmerta frowned. „I just don‘t understand why you can‘t accept credit when you‘ve more than earned it. Not everyone would rush into battle without hesitation, especially for strangers and _especially_ when they‘re outnumbered.“

„I did what I thought was right, what I thought was _necessary_ ,“ Harry replied slowly. „What do you think would‘ve happened if I hadn‘t intervened? Do you think the Death Eaters would’ve spared the people? Of course I was afraid, I won‘t deny that, but innocent people would‘ve been murdered and I couldn‘t let that happen — not when I was able to do something. If someone has the means to help and still does nothing, then what‘s the difference between them and those whose actions we consider as ›bad‹?“

„Spoken like a true Gryffindor.“ Rosmerta smiled. „Are you sure you don‘t want to pay a visit to Professor Dumbledore after all? You‘d be a great candidate for the DADA-position.“

Although Harry returned her smile, he shook his head. „I don‘t think I would be qualified,“ he said, thinking of the DA and the fact that, strictly speaking, he didn‘t even have a real school-leaving qualification. „Even if Ron and Hermione would say something else.“

„Then maybe you should listen to your siblings more often.“ Amusement shone in Rosmert‘s eyes. „Don‘t you think so too, _Freddie_?“

Harry helped Rosmerta with the dish washing after dinner (the muggle-way, he noted amused) before returning to the guest room with the excuse of being tired. There he waited until shortly before midnight before leaving.

Rosmerta had gone to bed a while ago, but Harry still put a _Mufflio_ on her room so she wouldn‘t hear any of the noises he was making. If he didn‘t cancel the spell, she would discover it by tomorrow and resolve the spell herself — but by then he would be long gone.

November‘s cold had draped over Hogsmeade like a heavy coat. The dense clouds swallowed any light, so Harry had to move in almost total darkness, but he refrained from lighting the tip of his wand with a mumbled ›Nox‹ — he didn‘t want to risk attracing attention from Hogwarts.

Keeping close to the pub‘s wall, he felt his way to the back. From there it was easy to climb the shallow hill to where he had woken up before. Raising his wand, he then whispered: „Accio Time-Turner.“

An faint but steadily growing buzz made him reflexively pull up his arm. The next moment something gently hit the palm of his hand —

But the smile on his face faded rather quickly.

When Harry opened his hand again, he suddenly felt like throwing up. The frame of the Time-Turner was completely twisted, the hourglass shattered, the chain broken — his chance to return to his time gone.

Harry stared down at the remains of the Time-Turner while his pulse suddenly thundered too loud through his ears. _I‘m stuck here_ , he thought _. I‘m stuck in the goddamn past, about twenty **fucking** years, without — without even knowing how to —_

His fingers began to tremble. Harry wanted to shake his head, but his body seemed paralyzed, caught vicelike in the grip of the situation, _no, no, there must be another way — I just have to — I —_

Rationally, Harry knew he was about to have a panic attack, but despite that he still struggled to get enough air in his lungs. He forced himself to concentrate on his breathing, _breath in for four seconds, hold for seven seconds, breath out for eight seconds —_

Over time, his heartbeat calmed down again and the trembling of his fingers ceased.

Harry couldn‘t tell how long he stood there, but when he finally opened his eyes again a light drizzle had started. Pale moonlight crept out from between the clouds in a few places, making the land’s ground partly visible.

Harry tossed the remains of the Time-Turner into the bushes before running both hands over his face. _Calm_ , he thought. _I have to keep calm_. _Think Potter, use your sawy and put the whining off for later. What can you do now? What would Ron and Hermione do?_

„The Forbidden Department,“ he muttered. Especially Hermione‘s first place to go to had always been the library. And if she had managed to find out something about Nicolas Flamel with the help of books in her first year, the Forbidden Department would certainly be able to help _him_ with the whole time travel mess.

Harry grabbed his wand and cast a _Disillusionment Charm_ on himself. The feeling of an cracked egg on his head made him shudder for a moment as he stepped out from under the protective treetop into the increasing rain.

It took him a while to find the passage hidden behind thick bushes at the foot of the castle’s wall. He couldn‘t get in through the main entrance — that would make too much noise and, in the worst case, wake up Filch. If Harry remembered the secret passages marked on the Marauder‘s Map correctly, there was a 50-percent-chance that he could use the one here to get into the castle.

He was lucky. As soon as he had identified the entrance — a simple wooden plank over an oval opening, also covered with a _Disillusionment Charm_ — he quickly slipped inside. From there he followed the corridor to the other end, guided by the light of his wand, before feeling the wall across from him for the opening mechanism. When he couldn‘t find one, he frowned. He pressed against the smooth surface and —

The resistance gave way.

As it turned out, he had moved the portrait of an elderly wizard who began to grumble at the sudden jolt but otherwise wasn‘t disturbed — just like the other portraits that covered the hallway. Harry allowed himself a sigh of relief before he oriented himself and disappeared into the next corridor.

He listened for every kind of noise under the raindrops’s muffled drumming against the glass windows, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to hear anything in the thunderstorm rumble. Lightning flashed across the inky sky as —

„—hurry up! We are _way_ too late! Blimey, it probably has already started!“

— voices approached.

„It isn‘t my fault that we were waiting so long for that bloody chocolate!“

Harry startled. _Students? What are they doing outside the common rooms so late? Should I do something? If so —_

„Well, the House-elves make the best!“

„Yeah, but Moony could‘ve gotten them tomorrow too, you pillock!“

At that moment two figures came running around the corner, only half-covered under a piece of invisible material — _Cloak of Invisibility_ , Harry realized with astonishment — and when another lightning flashed over the horizon, the corridor was wrapped in a brilliant light for a split second — 

They were tall, both of them in school uniforms and with dark hair, one with glasses, the other with a small package in their hand —

Time seemed to slow down when Harry finally recognized them.

Sirius was already opening his mouth but then stopped abruptly and, to Harry‘s utter horror, looked straight into his direction.

„Come _on_ ,“ his father said, nudging Sirius‘ back with a hand so hard that his godfather stumbled several steps forward. Frowning over his shoulder Sirius muttered, „Clot,“ before shaking his head like a dog with water in its ears and hurrying down the corridor behind his father.

As soon as they had turned the next corner, Harry could feel his legs almost give way. Swallowing hard, he clenched his right hand into a fist, relaxing his fingers before curling them up again while he forced his legs not to break away.

Honestly, and he had thought the evening couldn‘t get any worse.

Roughly ten minutes later he reached the library (thankfully _without_ further incidents) and began to rummage the Forbidden Department for any clues — unsuccessfully, it turned out.

Regardless of the title under which he searched, in which version he combined the terms ›time‹ and ›travel‹ or how many pages he skimmed, he didn‘t found any helpful hints. Apart from the obvious ›time travel is only possible with the help of a Time-Turner ... (incorrect) use harbours potential danger for yourself and your environment ...‹ there was nothing useful.

Under the moonlight that wriggled into the room Harry finally dropped onto one of the window seats. _Great. How, for Grodric‘s sake, should I contuine now?_

„If I can‘t find anything,“ he finally decided, „I could at least pass the time with something more exciting.“

While browsing a book had fallen into his hands from one of the shelves‘ rows. It was still a mystery to him how it had sneaked into his selection: _Animagi_ by Leonarda Howls. But given the circumstances he will probably be stuck in the past for a while so he could just as easily use his sudden free time.

With a stale aftertaste on his tongue he shrunk the book so that he could easily slip it into his trouser pockets before turning to the library‘s exit. _I need a plan B. Quickly._

The way back to Hogsmeade was surprisingly peaceful. He slipped back out through the same secret passage he had come through and, after making sure he hadn‘t been spotted, he ran back across the grounds. It was only shortly before the point where he‘d woken up that he slowed down before finally stopping. _Oh crap, I forgot to renew the Disillusionment Charm. I should —_

A low growl made his hand drop again.

Harrys felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. He knew that sound. He would recognize a deep growl like that anywhere —

Even as he turned around he knew with a certainty that he couldn‘t quite explain what he was about to see —

A werewolf stepped out of the shadow of the Forbidden Forest into the full moon’s light.

Moony.

* * *


End file.
